


much of the time i'd rather be here

by xmzame



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10x18, Bunker Fic, Fluff, M/M, coda fic, shipper!charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xmzame/pseuds/xmzame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10x18 coda fic - Dean really wants to hold Castiel's hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	much of the time i'd rather be here

Dean’s been staring at them for way too long.

If he could just reach out right now, and have Castiel squeeze his palms back gently, maybe, just maybe, his heart would ease with relief instead of having all this tension and this ‘longing’ thing that’s been playing between them for, how many years?

Oh, and yeah, it could slightly relieve the effect of the Mark of bloody Cain on his arm as well.

But Dean thinks about holding Castiel’s hand a lot. He carries many different scenarios in his head involving just two hands embracing, as he finds himself drifting off from the real world. He never cares to admit it; not to anyone, not to himself.

Hell, he’s even thought about holding hands on dinner dates and ice skating with the guy, despite how ridiculous it sounds, because come on, person like him with a person–  _angel,_  powerful and graceful (literally) being of the Lord, getting a happy ending? This is the real world, which does have some dark shit out there, not a Disney movie.

Thing is, Castiel never stays. At some point, he’ll leave, and Dean doesn’t know why or where he goes most of the time. If only Dean had the guts to ask, rather than let it be known to him that Castiel doesn’t want to stay after all.

But he’s here now, sitting on Dean’s right, with his eyebrows stitched as Charlie explains the relevance of the cootie catcher in her hands. Dean finds himself truly smiling, for the first time in a long time, when Castiel picks the colour green, ignoring the fact that green wasn’t written down in the first place.

The fortune says something about lifelong friendships, or closure, Dean isn’t sure. He spends too much time flickering his eyes from the curve of Castiel’s mouth to the way his hands contently lay on the table.

It goes on like that for a while, just Charlie and Cas having the funniest conversations at the table, which eases his mind from the horrors that spoke to him in his own voice.

Sam gets up eventually, says something about feeling exhausted and wanting to hit the sack. Which leaves him, Cas, and Charlie. Perhaps he should get up too, to avoid any stiff interaction–

“You know what, I’m pretty tired myself. Pizza’s great, but it makes me sleepy,” Charlie suddenly says. She lets out a fake yawn as she pulls herself away from the table with the chair dragging against the floor.

“What?” Dean finds himself questioning.

“Night, bitches!” Charlie replies with, already making her way out.

Dean swears she gives him a thumbs up and a wink right before she leaves.

His throat dries at the sight. Without notice his fingers wrap around the bottle close to him and brings the mouth of the bottle to his lips for a sip.

Shit, Cas is staring away and it should probably be his queue to say something.

“Dean.”

Dean swallows the beer down first, and tilts his head to show he’s listening.

“Yeah?”

Castiel’s gaze darts away, while the hands on the table fidget and drop down to his lap.

“Is it… alright if I- stay for a while?”

Dean forgets to speak out of shock, leaving the air around them silent.

“Of course I wouldn’t want to if it makes you unhappy–”

“Cas,” Dean stops him. He shakes his head, laughs under his breath. “You’re welcome here anytime.”

Castiel smiles at him. He nods and mutters a thank you.

“Every time, actually.” Dean doesn’t have time to bite his tongue. When Castiel looks up at him, with an ounce of hope clear in his eyes, Dean goes on.

“I mean it, alright? You don’t even have to leave. In fact, every time you do, it–” Dean halts, bites his tongue this time, and waves a hand.

“Dean. Tell me,” Castiel orders. He does it in a soft and low tone, so it doesn’t sound threatening or dangerous like how Castiel demands for information about Cain or Claire.

Dean sighs and braves himself.

“Every time you leave,” Dean starts again. “It gets worse. So, I’m saying- stay, okay? For as long as you can.”

Dean can’t think of how to put all the other words in his head together in a sentence, so he stops there and waits for a reply.

Castiel’s mouth tugs upwards, and damn it, Cas even bites that part of his lip to drag it back down.

“Well,” Castiel says. “Like I’ve said before; much of the time I’d rather be here.”

Dean breathes a sigh of relief, replacing it with a full grown smile.

“Times have changed, huh?”

Castiel nods with a thin line on his mouth. “Indeed. We’ve been through- everything, really.”

_Everything except hand holding, dating, making out, and having a normal life, really._

“Yeah,” Dean agrees anyway.

It’s quiet now, and Dean takes another few sips to distract himself.

His eyes leave the bottle and flicker to Castiel’s pair of hands nervously cupping each other.

Dean doesn’t know how it makes his own hands reach out to him. He finds himself turning his body to face him just as his palms land on Castiel’s, feeling a rush of ease pass through the both of them, and  _wow_ , it feels exceptionally  _normal_ , for once.

Castiel looks down at their now interlocked hands and smiles, gently squeezing Dean’s in return.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel utters. “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

They share a look and actually laugh, and Dean isn’t even sure why Cas decided to say that, of all things.

Brushing a thumb across the top of Castiel’s hard knuckles, Dean’s heart eases.

This is just the start of something possibly new; a simple gesture, but Dean hasn't felt this content in what seemed like forever. He doesn’t think about the Mark, or Hell, or any soul out there who wants him dead.

Because yeah, Castiel did raise him from perdition. He always did.


End file.
